Clones
by Hyperlitotes
Summary: Seyren Windsor and Eremes Guile talk about clones. Eremes gets irritated. A collection of Biolabs drabbles. Slash warning.
1. Clones

**Author's Note**: Rated T for fucking language.

**Disclaimers**: Assassin Cross Eremes and Lord Knight Seyren belong to Ragnarok Online and Gravity Corp. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Clones**

"I don't know why I have a million fucking clones of myself running around down here – much less in the level above." Eremes slouched across a slab of stone tile, white plasma licking the stone lovingly. "Fuck, we even all sound the same."

Seyren snickered. "I should know," he said, "I've fucked too many of them to count." He eyed Eremes almost calculatingly from his perch over Eremes' head. Eremes glowered. "Just 'cause I won't give you my piece of ass doesn't mean you can fuck my damn clones into the floor."

"Why? Jealous of yourself?" Seyren laughed at Eremes with his eyes.

"Fuck no," Eremes said, disgusted. "That's my body you're fucking, 'course I don't want your fucking sword up my ass – whether it's mine or a clone's."

Seyren chuckled. "You didn't mind that time last year."

Eremes spluttered. "Last year – _last year!_ – fucker, that wasn't funny."

From the distance came the muffled cry of "FUCK YOU!" and an eagle's triumphant screech. Eremes sighed. "That's either Cecil fucking with one of my clones – don't you say a word, fucker, I refuse to acknowledge her crazy obsession with me – or that's some idiot sniper who's decided _to kill one of my fucking clones._ Now I'm fucking pissed."

"Oh ho ho," Seyren mocked, "some poor sniper's come to play with us… Perhaps they have a party, that'll be even more fun!" His eyes sparkled from behind the white plasma.

"Fuck you," Eremes said, scowling. "Don't you go apeshit on me. I don't want anymore fucking bloodstains on my clothes."

"Well then," Seyren replied, eyes still sparkling, "we'll have to do something else to get rid of that annoyance."

"I don't like that look in your eyes," Eremes said. Seyren laughed. "You shouldn't." Then he jumped down from the ledge over Eremes' head and landed easily, armour clanging softly. "I know the perfect way."

And, Eremes thought irritated even as Seyren bent over him, it was the perfect way. The damn interfering sniper had to pick up his fucking jaw off the floor. Eremes bent backwards in boredom as Cecil came cackling from down a hallway and double strafed the gaping sniper – still with his jaw halfway to the floor – off the edge of the wall.

Shit, fuck, goddamn. Eremes rolled his eyes as Seyren smirked from above him. What the fuck was so horrifying about a knight and an assassin going at it on the laboratory floor?

He rolled his eyes again. Guess he answered his own fucking question.


	2. 66 Starry night

**Author**: Hyperlitotes  
**Disclaimer**: Margaretha Sorin, Kathyrne Keyron, the Lighthalzen Somatology Labs, and all other related indicia are copyrighted to Ragnarok Online and Gravity Corp. No money is being made off of this amateur work.  
**Theme**: 66. Starry night.  
**Fandom**: Ragnarok Online  
**Pairing**: None.  
**Rating**: G  
**Notes**: Since I'm in a bit of an art/writing funk, I decided to challenge myself with a 100 Themes Challenge sort of thing. I'll be posting the RO-related writings about the Biolabs under Clones from now on.

**66. Starry night.**

Margaretha Sorin stared upwards at the pipe-infested ceiling of the third level of the Lighthalzen Somatology Laboratories, twirling her rod absentmindedly in her hand. The dismal, dripping ceiling stared back, a drop of stale mud-water falling through the priestess in response. She ignored the droplet, instead lifting her rod to cast a heal on herself and continued staring up at the ceiling with a pout.

"Oh my, what are you doing up her in this lonely place?" a feminine voice teased from below. Margaretha tilted her head downwards from her position on a column high above the rest of the stairs, and sighed at the unexpected high wizard.

"Just pondering," the high priestess responded wistfully, turning her head back to the ceiling. There was a shuffling noise and then Kathyrne appeared in a crouch next to Margaretha. The wizard tsked knowingly. "You're trying to escape again," she giggled. "What kind of plan have you cooked up this time?"

"No plan," Margaretha said wistfully, trying to stare through the plumbing. "Just wishing."

"Wishing you had a plan?" Kathryne giggled again. Margaretha ignored her, dazedly tracing the path of the 35C pipeline with her eyes. "Oh, come on!" Kathyrne wheedled. "Don't ignore me!"

"Skies," Margaretha murmured to herself, "Starry, starry skies."

Kathryne quieted, staring at the priestess almost pityingly. "The stars?" she said softly, looking up at the ceiling with Margaretha. "The only stars here are the ones on the floor."

Margaretha sat in silence, still following the pipeline with her eyes. "Oh, give up," the wizard muttered, "we're never gonna get out of here. The only starry skies we'll see are the lights of our spells reflected off the water."

"I know," Margaretha whispered angrily. "I know. But at least I can dream of the skies."

"Dream of something we'll never see?" Kathryne whispered back, her voice loud despite the echoes of the other inhabitants. "You'll waste yourself away trying to escape, Margie."

"Waste myself away?" Margaretha laughed bitterly. "How can I waste myself away? We are already wasted, forever cursed to lurk in this damp pit of Hell. At least I can dream for something, instead of simply living this damned existence that even God has abandoned."

Kathryne exhaled, unable to retort. The priestess continued, gripping her rod and pointing it at the ceiling, "Even if I am unable to see my starry night sky, I can still make a poor substitution of it."

She waved her rod above herself, watching the white-green glow of the heal catch against the dripping water of the laboratories, sparkling dull white against the grey-blue of the walls and floors and ceiling. Another water droplet fell from the ceiling, reflecting white-green light as it hit the column next to the Kathyrne. The wizard stared at the place where the now-gone droplet had hit, silenced.

"Even if I cannot see the starry skies," Margaretha said quietly amidst the diminishing glow of her heal, "they will always be there to find."


	3. 19 Wonderbra

**Author**: Hyperlitotes  
**Disclaimer**: Eremes Guile, Seyren Windsor, Howard Alt-Eisen, the Lighthalzen Somatology Labs, and all other related indicia are copyrighted to Ragnarok Online and Gravity Corp. No money is being made off of this amateur work.  
**Theme**: 19. Wonderbra.  
**Fandom**: Ragnarok Online  
**Pairing**: Eremes/Seyren.  
**Rating**: PG-13 for language… and a lacy bra.

**Notes**: Uhhh… I'm blaming it on Seyren. It's all Seyren's fault. Thanks to those who reviewed last time. (: And don't ask me why they can pick up stuff… if they can swing around real swords, I'm sure they can pick up Wonderbras.

**19. Wonderbra.**

"What… the fuck… is this…" Eremes lifted a piece of horrendously bright pink clothing with his thumb and index finger like it was about explode like one of Cecil's claymores. He already knew the answer, of course. Said piece of clothing was a busty, lacy, frilly… bra.

"Why, it's a bra, of course," Seyren answered, phasing from out of the wall and snatching the offending monstrosity from Eremes' fingers. "You never seen one before?"

"Of course I've fucking seen one before!" Eremes spat, recovering from Seyren's sudden appearance. The lord knight ignored him in favour of flipping the tag over on the bra's strap. "Oh ho ho," Seyren whistled, "36C cup size, made by Wonderbra. Damn, this chick's got some nice jugs."

The assassin cross flushed a faint red, glowering. Seyren glanced at him with a suddenly sinister smile. "I think…" the knight wondered slowly, "that this would look good on you…" He lunged forward unexpectedly, grabbing Eremes' arms and pinning them to his side.

"FUCK – what the fuck – FUCK NO, WINDSOR—!"

Too goddamn fucking late. Seyren slipped the Wonderbra around Eremes' chest and pulled the straps under his arms, keeping Eremes pinned against him with one arm. Seyren howled raucously as he clipped the bra shut and then wrapped his arms around the assassin, groping the bra tauntingly. "See, it fits you perfectly, Eremes!"

"I'm fucking going to fucking skin you, Windsor!" Eremes hissed malevolently, struggling against Seyren's stiff arms. "Fucking… let me go!"

"Aw, but you look so cute in it, baby," Seyren cooed into Eremes' ear. "Now if only you could fill them out…"

"FUCK YOU, WINDSOR! I'm not a fucking girl!" The assassin snarled, crushing Seyren's foot futilely with his blade-tipped shoe. "And I'm not fucking fill out this fucking—"

"Uhh… I'm just gonna turn around and head in the other direction now…" a voice interrupted. Eremes whipped his head toward the sound, narrowing his eyes at the rather disturbed-looking Howard Alt-Eisen.

"ALT-EISEN! Fucking get this fucking bastard off me!"

"Hello, Howard," Seyren greeted pleasantly, looking up from his task of pinning Eremes into submission.

"Uh…" Howard said in response, eyes flicking to the lacy, hot-pink 36C Wonderbra wrapped around Eremes' armour. "I'm just gonna leave now…" He took a hesitant step backward.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING—" Eremes groaned in despair. He ground his other boot into Seyren's armoured foot in rage. "FUCK. He's gone."

"All the better, baby," Seyren purred. "I'd hate for you to take this off too soon."

"FUCK YOU, WINDSOR!" Eremes snarled.

**End Notes**: It looks to me Eremes isn't exactly struggling all that much… teehee. ovo


End file.
